sadness

Till we meet again…

August 28, 2019 by Poornima Manco

A sea of black

An ocean of tears

Where have you gone

Why have you left here?

Your time had come

But why so soon?

You were young yet

your life was in bloom

Your laughter

and that impish smile

the memories you made

the people you left behind

We are gathered here

to celebrate your life

and amidst the sadness

we rejoice

For you were one in a million

Natasha

Look down at everyone

Look at how many

Have come together

today, here, now

to celebrate you

and your life

Yes, you went too soon

you were cut down in your prime

but who says you are lost forever?

There is still time

To drink those bubbles

and dance on tables

and giggle and be silly

with those that are up there already

And when our time comes

to join you in that great crew room in the sky

be waiting for us

a glass in hand

We’ll drink together

and dance on tables

and giggle and be silly

and watch over our family and friends

as we know

you are watching over us.

I started my Guest Blog month in the hope that at least 50% of the people I had contacted for articles (people whose thoughts, lives and words I admired) would get back to me with some material. In actual fact, nearly 80% did! Yes I did pester and harangue them quite a bit (SORRY!) but my goodness, the response! I am humbled, grateful and overwhelmed beyond description.

My month overran, once again, like last time. But I didn’t mind and nor did my readers. It’s refreshing to come to a blog and read something new and unexpected. And boy, were the articles different and the topics varied!

André chronicled his unusual life and path in My unlikely journey to fatherhood. It was honest, heartfelt and emotionally uplifting. The response to his article was phenomenal. People reached out to tell him (and me) how much they admired him for his choices. His love for his children and their mothers shone like a beacon, and I hope it allowed other seemingly unlikely candidates to believe that they too can be mothers and fathers. After all, families come in all shapes and guises. It is love that holds them together.

The ghost in the office was Shantanu’s retelling of a mysterious series of events that occurred in one of his early offices. Does the supernatural exist? For a practical and rational person like Shantanu, nothing can explain away the incident he mentions. Spooky and eerie, sometimes there are things that are beyond the realm of our understanding, and maybe it’s best to leave them as is. What did you make of it?

Diya had a cushy existence till she decided to take the plunge and start teaching a group of underprivileged children in My rendezvous with God’s angels. What she found there was more rewarding than she could have ever expected. Their innocence, their eagerness to learn, their love for their teacher transformed her life. She learned to let go of the petty annoyances that plagued her, and immerse herself in giving back. To this day, it enriches her life in ways big and small.

Making mosaics became more than a hobby for Jyoti. It was an unconventional choice of craft and she encountered more than her fair share of problems, from the paucity of tools to the reluctance of other practitioners to share their skills. As a result, she started her own blog with the aim of helping other beginners and amateurs to source materials, tools and provide guidance in the process as well. Not only does she create the most beautiful mosaics, but also believes in the adage – ‘Gaining knowledge, is the first step to wisdom. Sharing it, is the first step to humanity.’ In Why do I make mosaics? Jyoti’s passion, humanity and humility shine through. She is an incredibly inspirational lady.

The Call of a Siren was an article sent to me by someone who wished to remain anonymous. If you’ve read the article, you will know why. The beauty of it is that this man has turned his life around from that lapse of judgement he details, and today he is an incredibly successful entrepreneur. He is also an avid reader and dabbles in the occasional bit of writing. It was my exhorting him to put pen to paper that created this thrilling recounting of an incident from his 20’s. I’m sure you’d agree that it reads like an episode from an exciting television series. My own heart was thumping as I read it for the first time! My friend, if you’re reading this, write more. You do have a gift.

HeartonWheels is Jeanne’s raison d’etre. She spends half her life in these refugee camps in Greece helping children overcome the trauma of escaping from war torn countries and being separated from their families. In extremely difficult conditions, she tries to fill their lives with laughter and with joy. This is not just a part time job for her, it is a calling. She is invested physically, mentally and emotionally in the well being of her charges. Her dream is to provide free education to all children in such conditions and through her mobile bus, which she is raising funds for, she hopes to realise this dream. Do have a read and contribute to her justgiving page if you can.

To say that Mohana has had an interesting life would be an understatement. A straight A student, who, for many years let her academic qualifications dictate the course of her life, then suddenly, on what seemed like a whim, let her art and talent take her on an entirely different journey. Yet, in her article, Life’s Nudges to Eke an Untrodden Path, Mohana explains how the seeds of this journey had been planted many years ago. The daughter of a renowned dancer, Mohana herself was an exceptionally talented danseuse. But it took many years, and many tiny hints from the Universe for her to realise where her true path lay. Unapologetically spiritual, she incorporates elements of her faith in her dance. There is an unalloyed joy that she transmits to her students through her teaching, that elevates her dance from the ordinary to the extraordinary.

Bharat is a writer I admire immensely. His grasp on the English language is breathtaking. He can bend, twist, transmogrify and transmute words into astonishing combinations of sentences, transporting the reader into worlds where these words dance and twirl around one like whirling dervishes. A man whose imagination is so fertile, so fecund that he can trot out poem after poem without breaking a sweat. Yet, a self confessed procrastinator, it took me close to a year to get him to write about his Vipassana experience. For a man of words, how strange it must have been to have none for ten days. A retreat that is a true test of one’s mettle, but also a retreat that helps one to delve deeper into the self. Bharat’s take on it is part humorous, but there is an underlying awe and a deep love and respect for humanity that comes through. A tale of two beards is more than just about beards, it is about man’s search for meaning and silence in a world that grows louder and more chaotic each day.

Finally, the poignant and heart wrenching The Bus Stop was Joan’s tribute to her mother who suffered from Alzheimers for several years before succumbing to it. Disease of any kind strips the body of its well being and dignity, but Alzheimers strips the mind of everything. To not know oneself, one’s own life forgotten, one’s family becoming strangers, must be a horribly scary and isolating experience. Joan’s poem gives words to the wordless. It is an insight into a lost and wandering mind, trying to find its bearings, trying to grasp fruitlessly at memories that are slipping away. ‘Am I a lost article?’ is what her mother asked her once. Maybe we all are, lost in one way or another. But to be lost to oneself… what could be worse than that?

My Guest Blog month hasn’t quite ended. A colleague, the extremely intelligent, erudite, politically astute, deep thinking Joke Brunt is working on a series of articles on Brexit for me. The month of May will be devoted to her take on what Brexit stands for, and what the ramifications will be, to those of us on both sides of the fence. Do keep reading, keep commenting and stay engaged!

A very BIG thank you to all of my contributors once again.

The Bus Stop – by Joan Foulks

April 30, 2019 by Poornima Manco

I waited for the bus

But the bus just passed me by

I had the ticket in my hand

The schedule memorised

The destination isn’t clear

Just somewhere far away from here

Somewhere where I won’t be scared

Where my aloneness can be shared

I’m tired of staring at the wall

The words in books I can’t recall

My past times now so meaningless

Their joys? – diminished nothingness

I can’t remember who I am

Or friends I might have known

We’re all strangers in my brain

Silent shadows each alone

Time has somehow stopped for me

Invisible I can’t get free

I’ve become the living dead

Hopeless, all I feel is dread

The Present needs the Past and Future

To be real and not conjecture

Lost in timeless fantasy

I’m angry that I can’t find me

(Am I a lost article? –

Or a God Particle

In a quantum parallel

Not lost but doing rather well?)

I want my life to seem familiar

Not full of loneliness and terror

I want to love and laugh again

I want to live! – not just pretend

Why can’t destiny be kind

To my kaleidoscopic mind

Make my worries go away

Make the Past come out to play?

If I could just get on that bus

I think I’d sweep away the dust

So memories’ ghosts could reappear

In a clearer atmosphere

I know I’d ride and ride and ride

Till I remembered when I died

So I could finally find some peace

And my soul could be released

Into the endless sea

Or the burning sapphire sky

My heart a dancing wild balloon

Drifting towards eternity

A poem about dementia by Joan Foulks.

NPR broadcast a story about a senior care home in Dusseldorf where most of the residents needed only slight assistance, but there were also a significant number who suffered from dementia. Increasingly, some of these residents would walk outside the home and get lost. The Assisted Living Home did not want to have a ‘lock down’ situation, creating a prison atmosphere for those who were mentally and physically sound, but they were also worried about harm coming to those who needed a bit more attention. They thought and thought and then came up with the idea to build a bus stop, a fake one, a place that had the appearance of being a bus stop but where no buses would actually stop. This worked like a charm! The wanderers would gravitate towards the bus stop and sit endlessly, not marking the passage of time and patiently waiting for the bus that never came. The staff would make a point of checking the bus stop often, to collect their charges and bring them back inside.

It is human nature to want to discover, change surroundings, explore, no matter what the circumstances of ones life. I wrote this poem for my mother. Many of the phrases I used were said to me by her and her fellow companions at the care home where she spent the last three years of her life.

In memory of Margie who would have been 98 on the 29th of April.

HeartonWheels – Jeanne Meuwissen

April 3, 2019 by Poornima Manco

The day is Sunday, the 31st of March and I am holding my first cup of coffee of the day, on a balcony in Greece, with a beautiful view of the mountains and the sea. My name is Jeanne Meuwissen and I am a 52 year old woman from Holland. Don’t worry I am not going through a midlife crisis or trying to do a sequel to the Shirley Valentine movie or Mamma Mia! I would’t like to give people nightmares as my singing talents aren’t that great!!

This Greek story is about a journey that started two years ago and the first stop was my heart. You don’t need a ticket to get on. Just keep on reading…

Everyone at a certain point in their lives (especially around 50) starts to wonder: where is my path going in life? I guess I got a double whammy as I lost a dear friend of mine while I was pondering this question. Midlife for me was like the Universe gently placed her hands upon my shoulders, pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “Find your path… Time is growing short… There are unexplored adventures ahead… It is time to show up and be seen.”

I do have a beautiful life, surrounded by wonderful friends and family, and I am still enjoying my career as a flight attendant after 25 years. But I always felt that there was something that was missing. I do believe everyone on this Earth has been made for some particular work and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.

So, I started looking deep inside my heart and I rediscovered one of my biggest passions again – teaching children. I was a primary school teacher before my flying career, and to me there is nothing as precious as the ability to be able to make someone smile, especially a child. This world is in deep trouble, but as a teacher you do have a big part in making this earth a better place for every child, and education plays a big role.

It wasn’t a surprise to me then that I got asked by one of my flying partners to come and help her support children from Syria in a refugee camp in northern Greece, close to Thessaloniki.

The first time I drove into such a camp it felt like my heart was being ripped out of my body. Children were living in tents. It was cold in January with no heating and no appropriate clothing. And their stories! What they had been through on their dangerous journey to Greece in dinghies, being ripped away from their family, friends and familiar surroundings. I fought back my tears as I watched these children doing artwork and smiling. I was astonished by their resilience.

There in the Polikastro camp, as I stood in living conditions that were horrendous, I found that I was still able to laugh and bring joy to these children. I found the light in my heart. I just had to let it burn brightly.

This is where the idea of the HeartonWheels bus originated.

HeartonWheels will be a mobile bus that will provide mobile education for traumatised children in a safe place. As Article 26 of the UN states:
Everyone has a right to education.
Education shall be free, at least in the elementary and fundamental stages.
Elementary education shall be compulsory.

The HeartonWheels Bus will be that safe place where children can regain their childhood again through lots of play, joy and laughter. Play is a universal language that initiates the human spirit into a life of freedom, happiness, unity, balance, humanity and greatness. These children never had a childhood where they could play and be themselves, freely. Their childhoods were, and still are, tainted by war and violence.

My journey has taken me to some interesting destinations and I am still travelling through Greece. Right now, I am working in a nursery school in a refugee camp called Malakasa. The children there are mostly from Afghanistan, and although we don’t speak the same language, I do feel we are making a difference in their daily lives by providing them with education in a safe place, where they can regain some of their childhood with lots of love, learning and laughter included.

As we have had some bumps in the road like funding and getting permission to go into a camp, the HeartonWheels Bus hasn’t reached its destination yet. Its parking space is still in my heart. But in the last two years I have experienced so much love and support from my family, friends, flying colleagues and even strangers, through donations, fundraisers, beautifully written cards and comments.

It has kept the light shining bright in my heart and I know for sure, that one day in the not so distant future, I will be pushing the button of the doors on the HeartonWheels Bus to provide a path to a brighter future for all the children on this earth, no matter which religion.

In every religion, there is love. Yet love itself has no religion!

If you wish to contribute or follow the route of the HeartonWheels Bus do click on this link:
http://heartonwheels.co

My name is Jeanne Meuwissen.

I am the proud founder of the grass roots company HeartonWheels.

My educational background is in teaching primary school that I combined with my flying career of 25 years. Last year I graduated with a degree in trauma psychology for children.

Since the Syrian war the world has seen the largest humanitarian crisis since the end of World War II and we know there isn’t a short-term solution. For that reason and knowing that almost 51% percent of the 19.5 million refugees are children living in camps where only their basic needs are met, I started volunteering 2 years ago. I worked as a volunteer teacher at Armando Aid school in refugee camp Oinofyta Greece and in Calais with the Schoolbusproject. At the same time I started studying trauma psychology at the Institute Freunde Der Erziehungskunst in Karlsruhe, Germany.

After seeing children living in horrible conditions and having no access to education, I decided to fly part time and move to Greece where I founded my charity called HeartonWheels.

HeartonWheels stands for a school bus that provides First Aid for the Souls of traumatised children through Mobile Education in a Child friendly Space at various refugee camps in Greece. HeartonWheels is establishing itself since October 2018 through working with various organisations throughout Greece at several refugee camps. Right now I am working in a refugee camp called Malakasa 60 km north of Athens together with a fabulous team of Greek Nursery teachers.

But in a lot of camps there aren’t any provisions like this and children are still deprived of their right to education in a safe place. Although this crisis isn’t that present anymore in the daily media it is still an ongoing disaster for many people and won’t disappear as there isn’t a short-term solution.

Children are still living in situations of deepest despair. Let’s not forget about them so they don’t turn into a lost generation. Let’s open these doors of The HeartonWheels Bus together and give these children, no matter what religion, a chance to a brighter future by making a donation and keep on following us through this link:

http://heartonwheels.co

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